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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29475582">Lost on Sakaar</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoraKwidditch/pseuds/KoraKwidditch'>KoraKwidditch</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alien Planet, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Auror Hermione Granger, BAMF Hermione Granger, Being Lost, Crossover, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hermione insert, Loki (Marvel) Has Issues, Marvel Universe, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Hermione Granger, Sakaar (Marvel), Tags May Change, Thor: Ragnarok (2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 22:07:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,790</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29475582</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoraKwidditch/pseuds/KoraKwidditch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You have once been lost, but now are found. </p><p>Hermione Granger, the Grandmaster welcomes you to Sakaar.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger/Loki (Marvel)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>97</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Evil Author Musings</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Lost</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Happy Evil Author Day!! This has been something I worked long and hard on last year, and have been taking a small break from. It is a Hermione-insert into Thor:Ragnarök.</p><p>I do not plan to post any more of this until it is completed in its entirety. (Right now it's at about 40k and I'm nearing the halfway point)</p><p>I make no promises for length or updates, but I hope you enjoy this small taste ;)</p><p>*This has not been beta'd, so please excuse any mistakes*</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/143851546@N04/50948103712/in/dateposted-public/">
    
  </a>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <span class="u">Chapter One: Lost</span>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione shifted her feet as she peered around the alleyway she currently hid in. Those strange people stood under a nearby streetlamp, and her wand dug into her fingers from how tightly she gripped it. They were all wearing odd clothing, like something out of a storybook. Large plates of armour glinted in the artificial light, and various weapons swung from their belts as they moved around. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Why Kingsley had decided to send her on her own, she had no idea. But here she was, twenty-three and an Auror for only two years, trailing a bunch of oddballs with gigantic weapons. They gave off a bizarre magical aura, which Hermione supposed was why she was sent covertly. If the entire department suddenly surrounded them, she was sure it would’ve ended up as some kind of battle. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The group spoke an unfamiliar language—Norweigan, maybe?—and Hermione wished she could understand what they said. They seemed to be waiting for something as they stood around and laughed, jostling each other merrily. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A large man with ginger hair that could rival the Weasley’s looked to the sky and Hermione startled when she realised a large funnel formed above them. It began to spin rapidly, and Hermione worried she’d have to find shelter from a possible tornado. Would Kinglsey blame her if she decided to abandon the mission? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can do this, Hermione,” she whispered to herself, steeling her resolve as the wind began to whip around her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The strangers seemed to think this normal, and they all gathered directly under the forming funnel. The red-haired man lifted his axe, and for the second time in a minute, Hermione startled again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A brilliant polychromatic light shot down from the funnel’s centre, and Hermione watched in awe as the people bathed in it. As they began to levitate from the ground slowly, she realised in horror that they were being transported. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No!” she yelled, surging out from her hiding spot. She refused to go back empty-handed, and if they wanted to apprehend these people, she’d have to figure out just where it was they were going. Racing forward, Hermione jumped into the light and seized the raven-haired female’s foot, trying with all her strength to pull her back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With horror, Hermione began to levitate too, and the woman yelled down to her in perfect English to hold on tight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione gripped onto the woman’s foot with one hand as they were suddenly sucked up into the sky at an alarming speed. It felt surreal, like using a Portkey for the first time, and she tried to get her bearings. Her other hand clutched her wand for dear life and stared up at the strangers above her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The speed started to wear on her, and with awe-filled terror, she realised they were in </span>
  <em>
    <span>space</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Stars dotted the inky blackness that surrounded them outside the beam, and in her surprise, Hermione felt her grasp loosen on the woman’s shoe. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, her fingers slipped from the strange material, and she began to fall backwards.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No!” The raven-haired woman yelled, attempting to reach down and grab for Hermione. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was too late.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Hermione was already falling towards the boundary of the beam. Just as she broke through the barrier, she felt the tips of the woman’s fingers brush the back of her hand before everything went black. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>The first thing Hermione discovered upon waking was an intense throbbing headache. The second, was that something extremely sharp dug into her back. Opening her eyes slowly and blinking against the bright sun, she looked around to investigate her surroundings. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Where in the seven hells was she?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mounds of rubbish and scraps of metal surrounded her, and every few seconds a small opening from the sky would dump more piles of the random materials. She recognised a few things: a walkman and computer sat to her right, but then most things she didn’t, like the odd-shaped... was that a </span>
  <em>
    <span>gun</span>
  </em>
  <span>?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Panic began to swell in her chest as she whipped her head around, scrabbling to the top of the pile she sat on to look around more. Bits of metal dug into her palms. They scratched and tore at the skin, but she didn’t care. The only thing echoing through her mind as she took in the miles upon miles of rubbish was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not real, not real, not real.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She struggled to catch a breath as she slid back down the mound, grabbing her wand and gripping it between both hands. “You’re fine; this is real, but you’re fine, Hermione,” she said aloud as she closed her eyes and steadied her breathing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fine, fine, fine. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She counted to thirty as she slowed her breath, and once her hands stopped trembling, she reopened them. Before she could think of what to do next, something large zoomed overhead, and Hermione looked up in bewilderment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a spaceship. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The vessel was rusted and patched together with all different kinds of mismatched parts, but it was a spaceship nonetheless. It passed over her quickly, and just as suddenly stopped, turning around to circle back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione watched transfixed as it descended in a straight line down, legs coming out as it landed to the ground and scattered piles of metal and scrap. She gripped her wand tighter, knuckles turning white as a door opened below, and a group of people emerged. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They all wore masks and colourful clothes, none of it familiar in a way that would help Hermione pinpoint where she was. No, instead they confused her further. When they were nearly ten feet away, one of them spoke, pointing a spear at her chest. The language was completely foreign to her, and though she was fluent in both Spanish and French, she couldn’t discern anything close to an origin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When they spoke again and moved closer, Hermione pointed her wand back. “I don’t understand what it is you’re saying, but I’m no threat to you!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you a fighter or food?” They yelled back, the rest of the group pulling out a varying array of weapons. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione’s wand arm began to shake from the strain of her tight grip, and she pinched her lips together tightly as she thought. If she could cast a quick stun hex on the leader, and then an </span>
  <em>
    <span>Incarcerous </span>
  </em>
  <span>on the rest of them, she could board their ship and... </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then what? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had no idea how to fly that contraption, had no idea even where to go if she could figure it out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But she had to try. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When the person in front of her took a tentative step forward, she made her decision. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stupefy!” she cried out, blasting them in the chest. They flung back into one of the other’s, and just as Hermione rounded her wand at another, something to her left caught her eye. A different person had snuck up on her while she was distracted by this lot, and just as she made to point her wand at them, they flung their arm out. A sharp piercing sensation hit her neck, and when she cried out and tried to remove whatever it was that had attached itself to her skin, an electric pulse ripped through her body. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It felt so like the Cruciatus that Hermione thought she was back at Malfoy Manor, the far-off sound of Bellatrix laughing maniacally over her as she convulsed. After a moment, the pain vanished, and Hermione lay there wholly numb, unable to move, her vision dazed and mind confused. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The last thing she saw before she passed out was the group of people descending upon her. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Prisoners with Jobs</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <span class="u">Chapter Two: Prisoners with Jobs</span>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hello.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A sweet voice filled Hermione’s ears, pulling her slowly from unconsciousness. Her eyes opened to blackness, and she had to blink several times to make sure they weren’t still closed. She tried to move but found her arms and legs bound to a chair. Icy panic coursed through her as she tried to pull free, and just as she began to thrash about, the voice returned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Welcome to Sakaar.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A bright image flashed to her left, and as her eyes adjusted to the swirling colours, the voice continued. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fear not. You were once lost but now have been found. The Grandmaster, the first lost and the first found, welcomes you. He created Sakaar, located at the end of the cosmic gateway between the known and the unknown.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione watched as the image beside her transformed into the silhouette of a man, buildings rising and falling around him. She could do nothing but stare as her chair moved forward, and the images transformed into something that resembled the Roman Colosseum, more silhouettes appearing to fight one another. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It is the collecting point for all lost and unloved things. But here on Sakaar, you are loved. You are valued. You are significant.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A rainbow of colours swam by Hermione, her vision tunnelling as she gazed ahead into something that resembled a kaleidoscope. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where once you were nothing, now you are something. You are the property of the only one who loves you. You now belong to the Grandmaster. Congratulations, you will meet the Grandmaster in five seconds.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The colours picked up speed, and her head hit the back of the chair as it raced forward, sickness settling in her stomach. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Prepare yourself to meet the Grandmaster.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Faster than she thought possible, the images flashed by. Hermione was unable to close her eyes, so intent on discovering just what was happening. The colours disappeared as quickly as they zoomed past her, and she found herself blinking against bright light. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She sat in front of a pedestal, a collection of odd-looking people around her and she realised with a start, that they were </span>
  <em>
    <span>aliens</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She should be panicking—should be thrashing about to try and get free, but instead, fear rendered her immobile. Just before she could think of moving, the man seated at a chair in front of her drew her attention. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wow, impressive.” He uttered in an odd mix of monotone and astonished. “Most people vomit or scream.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dark green hair sparkled beneath the light above them, and as he gestured for the domineering looking woman to push him forward, Hermione thanked Merlin he was at least human-looking. She, of course, knew enough not to be able to trust her eyes, but at the very least she could keep her thoughts about her without having to stare at something otherworldly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where am I?” she inquired as he came closer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where are—didn’t the video explain?” He stood, his purple and red garb draping off of him. “I am the Grandmaster, and you, my dear, are on Sakaar!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione tested the bindings, her wrist aching against the strain of whatever electrical force held them to the arm. “And why, exactly, am I bound?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>stun one of my scrappers.” He held his hand out to the woman by his chair, and Hermione watched in horror as she handed him her wand. “With this little piece of wood. I’m perplexed... Oh, hey, what’s your name?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione kept her jaw shut, defiance coursing through her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, come on.” Grandmaster sighed and sat back in his chair, fiddling with her wand between his fingers. “I introduced myself; it’s only fair you do the same. Manners and all that jazz.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Grandmaster didn’t seem like an evil person; on the contrary, he seemed polite and amiable. She found herself wanting to please him, to make him happy—was it a glamour? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hermione,” she stated, though a small part of her brain warned her against it. “My name is Hermione.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hermione? Hermione, Hermione.” The Grandmaster tested her name. “Interesting. What an odd name, but I suppose that matches you, doesn’t it?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He gave a small chuckle as he regarded her. “Well, your name now belongs to me. From here on you shall be known as Prisoner... Topaz, what number are we at?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Four thousand seven hundred eighty-two.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He waved his hand, “Too long. Don’t we have any lower numbers she could take?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Topaz pulled out a glowing, see-through tablet from her pocket and tapped at various buttons on the screen. “Three hundred ninety-four was killed two days ago by your champion.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Perfect! There,” he gestured to Hermione. “You will now be known as prisoner three hundred ninety-four, it has a nice ring to it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, tell me, Three-nine-four. Just how does this thing work?” He held the wand out to her face, and if Hermione’s hands weren’t bound, she would have reached out and snatched it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She ignored the name he gave her. “It’s a wand. I’m a witch.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione blinked as she realised how easily the words rolled off her tongue. She had just broken the statute of secrecy without a thought—if it even counted here.  Something about the Grandmaster made her want to reveal her deepest secrets. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A witch? Fascinating. Topaz, do we have a witch in our staff?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Great!” The Grandmaster stood and clapped his hands together. With a snap of his fingers and a quick whistle, someone brought over a metal box, some type of forcefield surrounding it. He placed his hand against the blue shield and it instantly disappeared. Pulling a key from his pocket, the Grandmaster slid it into the lock and pulled open the lid. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We can’t have you galavanting around with this in case you decide to shoot me in the chest like you did our scrapper friend. Eck, Topaz could you imagine?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The woman grunted as the Grandmaster dropped Hermione’s wand inside the box and snapped the lid shut. The force field surrounded the box once more, and it floated behind him as if to tease her that it was just out of arm's reach. Hermione could taste bile in the back of her throat as fear gripped her while she watched them take her only means of protection. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And what do you plan to do with it?” she asked, struggling against her bindings. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s just for safekeeping. Don’t worry, Three-nine-four,” The Grandmaster said. “You won’t need it anymore anyway! You’ve been accepted into my staff! Congratulations, starting today, you are a... Topaz, what jobs are available?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Scrap collector, weapons finder, and entertainment fighter.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hm...” The Grandmaster looked at her with scrutiny. “Well, she doesn’t seem like much of a fighter without her wand, and we definitely can’t give that back to her. Scrap collector sounds boring. Let’s make her a weapon’s finder.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Topaz typed more on the screen, and as Hermione’s chair began to float away, she watched in abject horror as the Grandmaster waved good-bye, the box containing her wand floating behind him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The chair took her through metal halls and into an elevator, the shoddy quality of it made her stomach plummet as it descended. She was utterly alone, and she tried again on the electric cuffs. When they didn’t give in, she took a deep breath and tried to will her magic into her hands. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Accio wand,” she whispered to herself, feeling the tether of magic leave in search of her wand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nothing returned, and crippling terror filled her veins. She was powerless. A handful of wandless hexes and jinxes, along with a concentrated Accio, were all that was accessible to her. But nothing was strong enough to get her out of there. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the elevator came to a stop, Hermione watched in abject horror as some... </span>
  <em>
    <span>creature </span>
  </em>
  <span>opened the door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It lifted a hand made of stacked rocks. “Sup, I’m Korg; I run the champion department. Not to toot my own horn, but kind of a big deal. You must be new.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione said nothing, her voice thick as she stared at the giant rock alien. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Scared, huh? That’s alright; most people are when they first get here.” He waved over a man in rags, metal bits dangling from the edges of his clothes. The goggles he wore were reflective, and Hermione could see her fear-stricken face in them. It gave her pause; she needed to keep her wits about her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Korg awkwardly stood at the door as the man ran some type of scanner over Hermione, referencing a small tablet similar to the one that woman named Topaz had, though his seemed older and decrepit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, what did one rock say to the other at dinner? I hope you brought your...apatite!” Korg... smiled? Or what Hermione could discern as a smile, his rock-made lips stretching. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When she only stared at him in reply, he sighed. “Damn, been working on that one for weeks.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Prisoner Three-nine-four. Weapons collector this one,” the man that had been scanning her said. “An Earthian, huh? Haven’t had one of you in a long time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Korg perked up, “You’re from Earth? Oh, best rocks there. Really great stuff.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I suppose...” Hermione muttered in confusion, finally finding her voice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man pressed a button on the back of her chair, and her restraints finally freed her. Rubbing her wrists, she stood on shaky legs, feeling suddenly small in front of the towering figure of Korg. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’ll show you around, though there’s not much to see.” He began to walk away, and unsure of what else to do, Hermione followed. She searched for exits, trying to formulate some type of strategy to hide and figure out how to get her wand back from the Grandmaster. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know you’re thinking of escaping,” Korg said quietly, surprising her. “We’ve had plenty of people try. But that zapper they’ve got in your neck? It’s got a tracker in it. Even if you manage to make it out, they’ll find you again and bring you back. And the Grandmaster doesn’t like it when slaves escape.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione gently touched the small metal disk, digging her nails under the edge. A sharp pain shot down her neck and spine as she tried to lift it away from her skin. She quickly let it go, the pain disappearing instantly, though a slight ache now sat around the disk. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what to do,” she said, feeling dread settle in the pit of her stomach. Her limbs felt heavy, breath coming in short gasps as she glanced at the unfamiliar faces surrounding her. The smell of petrol filled her nose, as did the iron tinge of metal. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Korg placed a heavy hand on her shoulder, and the weight of it brought her back to her body, though she still couldn’t seem to breathe. “I’ll help you; I can start a revolution, print some pamphlets.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The absurdity of the statement made Hermione suck in a strained chuckle. He reminded her so much of Ron. “If you think it will help.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Korg showed her around while she tried to reign in her impending panic attack. The weapons racks were an odd mismatch of slapped together scrap bits, none of it making any sense, but then, neither did anything else. He told her of the arena, how the contest of champions worked, how Sakaar worked. The only thing she seemed to gather was that the hierarchy reminded her heavily of the wizards and house-elf dynamic—only now, </span>
  <em>
    <span>she </span>
  </em>
  <span>was the house-elf. Those at the top enjoyed finer living under the Grandmaster’s favour, while those at the bottom were considered less than insects. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once Korg finished showing her around, and introducing her to an array of other-worldly people, he took her down the slave quarters. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is where you’ll be staying,” he said, walking up to a metal door that slid open as they approached. “Best room in the place.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It housed only a single bed and nightstand made of scrap metal, the fluorescent light overhead dim with age. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Korg scratched the back of his head when Hermione gave him a questioning look. “Sorry, another joke.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She stepped inside, looking out the single-pane window at the vast city below, heaps of junk scattered between. The sun began to set in the distance, casting a faint orange glow on the mounds of rubbish and metal buildings. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione’s throat filled with bile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be back tomorrow and take you through your first day, teach you the ropes. Goodnight.” Korg walked away, mumbling to himself when Hermione didn’t reply, “Goodnight Korg, you handsome devil.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When the door slid shut, panic-filled every vein in Hermione’s body. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dropping to her knees, her breathing became erratic as her magic thrummed through her. She didn’t know what to do; didn’t know where to go from here. The lightbulb overhead popped as her magic spiked, and the loud sound pulled Hermione from her terror as the room sank into darkness with the setting sun. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taking a deep breath, she tried to steady her mind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“List off the things you know, Hermione,” she mumbled to herself, rocking back and forth. “You’re on a planet called Sakaar. The Grandmaster runs it. Korg is made of rocks; he runs the champion department. You’re a slave, and now a weapon’s collector.” Whatever the hell that meant. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She continued to rock, muttering other things to herself to quiet her mind. As she did, a plan began to formulate. There was no way for her to get out of here without help, that much was evident. So, she would need to be an obedient little slave, get on the Grandmaster’s good side, and steal her wand back. Maybe Korg could help her work out the logistics of just how to get off this planet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Looking up, she discovered a small door that looked like a closet, and her curiosity got the better of her. Standing on weakened legs, she walked to the door, the metal sliding open in a rush of air, another weak bulb flickering to life. On the other side was a bathroom so small the expanse of her arms could touch both walls. A thin shower stall stood in the corner, along with an odd-looking toilet and tiny sink. The cracked mirror above showed her reflection, her hair in knots and dirt smeared across her face.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The faucet creaked and groaned as she turned the handle, sputtering with air before a weak stream of water escaped. She cupped it in her hands, taking a few sips of the metallic tasting water before splashing it over her face. The thin towel hanging next to it felt like parchment as she swiped it over her face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bracing her arms against the edge of the sink, Hermione felt hot tears prick the corner of her eyes. “Stop it, Hermione. You’re fine, you’re fine, you’re fine.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Going back to the room and climbing into the shoddy bed that felt like she was lying on Korg, Hermione fell into an instant sleep, her body and mind fatigued with all that had happened. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tomorrow she would begin phase one of her plan: be the best damn slave this planet had ever seen. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>A loud knock outside her room had her groaning into her pillow. “Go away, Ginny.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Erm, it’s Korg, actually! Ya know, we met yesterday? Tall—made of rock?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The muffled voice of Korg had Hermione scrambling, her half-awake mind thinking she was in her room at the Burrow. Raking her hands through her dishevelled curls, Hermione patted her face and adjusted the wrinkled Auror robes she still wore from yesterday. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come in,” she called out as she stood, her bare feet cold on the metal floor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Morning and happiest of days to you,” Korg greeted as he filled her small space. “I’ve got a set of our prisoner-with-jobs uniforms.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He handed her a bundle of clothing, a too-large, stained white t-shirt and a pair of dark blue dungarees made of some type of canvas material. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be back in a few minutes and take you to where we get food. I reckon you’re hungry.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A sudden emptiness filled Hermione’s stomach as she became aware of the last time she ate. When Korg left, she slipped into the bathroom and tested the buttons of the shower. The water only ran for a few seconds before she had to press it again, and the bar of soap that sat on the ledge had nearly no scent. Peeling the clothes from her body, Hermione stepped into the narrow compartment, jumping as ice-cold water hit her when she pressed the button. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After taking the fastest shower of her life, Hermione dressed in the uniform; the material felt thin—as if one wrong move would cause it all to unravel. She was thankful she had decided to wear her boots when she had tracked down those odd people in London; they were undoubtedly sturdier than whatever the hell Korg gave her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The material itched at her skin as she pulled her hair into a bun, using the lace from her cloak to tie it in place. Curls began to pop free almost instantly, and she blew them from her face in irritation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Opening the door, Hermione startled again at the odd sight of Korg. She’d seen her fair share of oddities in her life, but still—to see someone made of rocks was quite shocking. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good morning!” Korg said, giving a small bow. “Terrible, isn’t it? The clothes.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione nodded her agreement as Korg began to lead them down the hall. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Glad I’m made of rock, don’t even need to wear clothes really.” He gestured to his red trousers. “I just like to wear these cause they make my bum look nice.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione quirked a brow at his conversation. Korg truly knew how to put someone at ease; she felt as if she’d known him for years. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sounds of boisterous chatter drew her attention from the rock-man to the approaching door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What is that?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Korg chuckled, “Meal hall, it’s where all the slaves—er, prisoners with jobs eat. Word of advice before we go in, stick close to me. Don’t want the wrong sort messing with you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They stepped through the wide double doors, and Hermione’s heart jumped to her throat. The meal hall was twice the size of the Hogwarts Great Hall and like the rest of the building, made entirely of metal. Hundreds of odd-looking people sat at long tables, and Hermione couldn’t help but stare as she followed Korg. A man with cat-ears bared his teeth to her, a woman with blue skin glared, and something she could barely identify aside from a hat made of scrap metal followed her every movement. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had never felt more exposed or in danger—not even during the war. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who are all these people?” she whispered to Korg, afraid if she spoke any louder, someone else would hear her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“All of the Grandmaster’s prisoners-with-jobs,” Korg replied as they stepped into a line of the exact people Hermione was worried about. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to keep her face impassive as she squashed down her fear. She couldn’t allow these people to see just how fast her heart was beating or how her hands shook. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How does he manage it? Keeping all these people as his prisoners?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Korg tapped his chin, “The Grandmaster isn’t exactly... he’s ageless and powerful. He may look human, but he’s far from it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione shivered at the idea. “Then, what is he?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s an Elder of the Universe, sweetheart.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione turned, staring at the face of a woman, her dark, normal-looking skin contrasting against the grey leather of her outfit. A smug smile graced her lips, her posture imposing and filled with confidence. She looked almost human, except there was an etherealness about her, as if she belonged to a higher world that even Merlin himself couldn’t reach. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A—” Hermione’s voice caught in her throat, and she cleared it nervously. “A what?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The woman crossed her arms, her self-important grin widening. “An </span>
  <em>
    <span>elder</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It basically just means he’s all-powerful, immortal, yadda yadda.” she waved her hand dismissively and looked to Korg. “Where did you find the human? Seems the scrap yard is missing some trash.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione felt her face flush in anger. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Prisoner Three-nine-four, meet Scrapper one-four-two.” Korg introduced them. “Three-nine-four is from Earth.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One-four-two’s eyes widened, the grin dropping from her face as she regarded Hermione, who stood straighter and held her head up high. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“An Earthian? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Here</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Oh, Odin would have a field day if he knew—” she cut herself off, glaring at Hermione. “How did a mortal Earthian wind up on Sakaar?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not just some plain-old Earthian!” Hermione hissed, annoyed at being treated like a child by Korg and whoever this woman was. “I’m a very powerful witch, I’ll have you know!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Statute of Secrecy be damned—she could deal with the Wizengamot. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One-four-two blinked, looking at Hermione in a new light, something akin to surprise on her face. “A witch? Like the ones that raised Frigga?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One-four-two shook her head, “Nothing, sorry. Another life. If you’re a witch, then why can’t you just use your magic to leave?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione huffed, “It doesn’t work like that. I need my wand—my magical conduit,” she clarified at seeing the confused expression on one-four two’s face. “I need my wand to use my magic. Without it I can only do small spells, but nothing powerful enough to get me off this planet. Even with my wand, I’m not sure I could.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And where is your wand?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione crossed her arms and glared at the floor. “The Grandmaster has it.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well,” a leather-clad arm shot into Hermione’s view, extended for a handshake. “Either way, I would very much like to have a witch on my side.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione stared at the hand for a moment. Could she trust this woman? She didn’t know her, but yet there was a friendliness about her—if her rude comments were ignored. She reminded Hermione of Ginny, headstrong and without a filter. Either way, Hermione had no choice; she needed help if she were to make it out of Sakaar alive. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Call me Hermione.” She took the hand and shook it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The smug grin returned to the woman’s face, wrinkling the white face paint beneath her eyes. “Val.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Weapons Finder</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <span class="u">Chapter Three: Weapons Finder</span>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The days were long. Much longer than Earth days, but they still passed by in a blur of metal—only aiding the oppressiveness Hermione felt. She kept a scratched tally on her bedroom wall, and this morning found number 27 being etched into it with a small piece of steel. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Staring at the lines made Hermione feel hopeless. Twenty-seven days. A </span>
  <em>
    <span>month</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It was much too long. She had to figure out a way to get out of here. Hermione had broached the subject with Val numerous times, but she shut down each attempt immediately after the words were uttered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s too risky.” Val had said the first time Hermione asked. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“But I—”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Slaves don’t leave Sakaar, witch.” Val had levelled her with a look, though the Lioness in Hermione dared to give it right back. “There’s only one way out unless you get an official pass from the Grandmaster and they open the shield surrounding Sakaar. And that way out is impossible to go through. You’d have to be an ace pilot and absolutely mental.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With those words, Hermione had enacted her first phase of the plan: gain the Grandmaster’s trust. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was easy enough; all she had to do was keep her mood amiable. Make him laugh on occasion. Agree with whatever he said. Compliment him. It only took all of two weeks before Hermione had him eating out of her palm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sighing, Hermione prepared for the day. She dressed in her new uniform—thanks to her closeness with the Grandmaster—and pulled her hair into a bun. Val had been kind enough to get her a comb, so she at least didn’t have to deal with tangled hair, but the string from her cloak was still all she managed to tie it with. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Meal Hall was boisterous as she entered, groups of people huddled together, speaking odd languages she didn’t know. Somehow, Hermione had managed to avoid most of the surly-looking ones, at the advice of Val to keep her head low and eyes down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The line for food was short that morning, and Hermione only grabbed some type of power bar and a bottle of water before heading down to the Underground. The routine usually went that Hermione grabbed a small breakfast, went to the Underground, and exited to the vast junkyard through the small, guarded door. Today was no different. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t forget we can track you, Earthling.” the spike-faced guard hissed at her as she walked towards the piles of scrap. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m well-aware; you tell me every morning,” Hermione mumbled to herself, slinging her canvas bag over her shoulder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her job as a weapon’s finder was nothing short of boring. The only thing her duties entailed was to pick through the mounds of trash and find items to be used as weapons for the contender arena. Not that the weapons mattered, apparently the Grandmaster’s champion could kill with one blow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finding a very sharp looking spike, Hermione pocketed it into her bag, careful not to touch the point. She’d spend a few hours out here, fill up her bag, and return. Then she would join Korg back in the Underground and help build weapons. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That stupid Kronan, as she came to discover his race, tried to stage an uprising for her. Of course, he failed. The only ones that showed up were his mother and her boyfriend, but he still did that for her. Though he said the oddest jokes,  Hermione couldn’t help the companionship she felt for him almost instantly. Korg took her under his wing when she first arrived, and if it weren’t for him, Hermione probably would have been eaten by one of the many Sakaarian slaves. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione was just lucky she was close enough to the Grandmaster to convince him Korg wasn’t strong enough to go against his champion. That the fight would be boring and over much too quickly for it to be worthwhile. Instead, she managed to have Korg sentenced as a contender, but only to do small fights at the beginning to get the crowd “hot and ready” as the Grandmaster put it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then Korg had the gall to </span>
  <em>
    <span>thank her</span>
  </em>
  <span> for saving his life. As if he hadn’t just given up his freedom to try and save </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stupid Kronans. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione continued her day in the same manner as the others—duly and without much purpose aside from collection. She ducked back into the building after her bag was filled, finding Korg and handing over her collection for the day. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh look, another spike,” Korg said, inspecting the pointed end. “Now I can finish that fork. D’ya think it could fend off three vampires at once?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione smirked as she busied herself with tying rope around a metal pole. “Maybe if they were huddled together.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An hour passed with surprising ease, Hermione’s mind busy with building weapons. She wondered what would happen if all the slaves were to grab one and turn on the guards. The throbbing in her neck gave her the answer: electrocuted until they foamed at the mouth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Three-nine-four!” A gruff voice called.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione turned to find that spike-faced guard from earlier staring daggers at her. She made her way over to him, arms crossed and defence at the ready. “Yes?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shoved a bag into her chest, knocking some of the wind from her lungs at the force. “Make another run.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But I only make one run a day—” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He held up the Obedience Disk fob, thumb hovering over the button. “And I’m telling you to make another.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione snapped her jaw shut and swung the bag over the shoulder, stomping through the door and straight to the mounds of rubbish. Anger coursed through her veins, and she dug through the scrap with frustration. When she figured out how to get her wand back, that guard was the first on her list to hex into oblivion. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the time she managed to fill her bag, the sun was already beginning to set, casting an orange glow on the metal heaps. Hermione sighed and tossed the bag to the ground, settling on some type of large door. It was cold, but she didn’t care, just thankful to be able to rest a moment. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath of metallic tinged air and allowed herself a small moment of peace. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It lasted all of thirty seconds before the sound of a deep yell, followed by something crashing into a nearby pile, had her jolting up. The reaction to brandish her wand had her fingers clenching into a fist. Instead, she grabbed a pipe from her bag and held it like a Beater’s bat, inching her way to whatever the hell just fell from the sky. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just before she could reach the mound, a man popped up from the rubbish, sweeping his jet black hair back and patting off his green and black leather... armour? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her foot kicked a can, the sound echoing and making her heart race as the man turned to her. Her breath stuttered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His features were sharp, blue eyes bright and startling, though Hermione could see a darkness in them even from this distance. She was both terrified and mesmerised, and her mouth open and closed multiple times as she tried to find words. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hello,” he greeted in a perfect posh-English accent. “Where are we?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione felt the sudden need to make sure her bun was still in place and brush the dirt from her trousers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“S-Sakaar.” she managed to stutter out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sakaar...” He trailed off, looking around them in confusion. “I’ve never heard of this planet.” He descended from atop the mound and towards her. A banana peel stuck to the top of his shoe, and he pulled it off with a scrunched face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione couldn’t help the smile that curled her lips as she watched him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His piercing eyes met hers, and he stood straight, adjusting his leather vest. “Loki, God of Mischief.” he gave a small bow, fist over his heart. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait,” Hermione blinked at him. “Loki... as in—the Loki that destroyed half of New York City?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Loki winced, “Technically, it was the Chitauri.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All amusement and attraction she felt for him instantly disappeared—it was like she was looking at a different person. She had seen the aftermath of that battle firsthand, having been sent to New York to assist the MACUSA with clean up and repair. They had lost many good witches and wizards—more than even the Battle of Hogwarts.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pointing the pipe at him, Hermione felt her magic reach out to wrap around the metal. Before she could stop it, it continued out and ghosted over Loki, reaching out in a way she never saw it do before. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Loki stared at her wide-eyed, obviously able to feel what the hell just happened. “What—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don’t get to ask questions,” Hermione interjected, brow furrowed. “I’m taking you to the Grandmaster.  </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“Prisoner Three-nine-four! Such a joy to see you. What have you brought me?” The dark eyes of the Grandmaster peered down at her and Loki from his chair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just as Hermione was about to give the Grandmaster his name, Loki gave a flourished bow and a wide smile. “My name is Loki Odinson, Grandmaster. I am at your disposal.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Grandmaster sat back, a satisfied smirk on his face. “What good manners. Now </span>
  <em>
    <span>that’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>how you give an introduction. Do you fight, Loki Odinson?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Loki’s evident fake smile stayed on his face as he stood straight. “Unfortunately not, I usually leave the fighting up to my brother.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Displeasure crossed the Grandmaster’s face, “Well, that’s disappointing. It’s been a while since I’ve had anyone strong enough to go against my champion.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Loki bowed again, about to open his mouth to kiss the Grandmaster’s arse even more but he was interrupted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine.” The Grandmaster stood and walked towards them. “You can stay; I like your look. I could use some interesting company, these socialites of my high-class are so </span>
  <em>
    <span>boring</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He smiled at both Hermione and Loki, and a beat of awkward silence passed. Internally, Hermione fumed—she had expected Loki to become a slave too, but instead, in a matter of a few words, he managed to worm his way to high-class.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He won’t be a PWJ too, Grandmaster?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, no. He’ll still be a PWJ, but a pretty one to entertain my guests.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Loki stared at the Grandmaster, “But surely I could serve you better if I was—” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A PWJ? I like your thinking.” The Grandmaster smirked at Loki and Hermione triumphed. He turned to eye Hermione up and down, his smile falling. “Three-nine-four, dear, you look tired, are you sleeping okay? Do you not like your room? Topaz, have we given her a good room?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Topaz scoffed, “She’s a slave, why would she have a good room?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Grandmaster waved his hand, “Oh, you know I don’t like that word! Why do you have a problem with PWJ? Three-nine-four uses it just fine.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, ‘she’s a ‘prisoner with a job’, why would she have a good room?” Topaz rolled her eyes behind him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She’s got magic, and she’s my favourite PWJ, so she should have a good room,” The Grandmaster said, snapping his fingers. “Change it; I don’t care, give her something nice, maybe something with a view.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Topaz grunted and shot a glare at Hermione, who gave it right back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“As for Mr Loki here, give him the room next door. Hermione can show him the ropes.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Topaz continued her glare, ignoring the Grandmaster. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He snapped a few times at Topaz’s face. “Helloo, what am I talking to a wall here? Make it happen.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” Topaz grumbled out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She tapped on her see-through screen a few times and swept down the platform, shouldering Hermione and continuing out the room. Fire laced Hermione’s eyes as she followed Topaz, Loki close behind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, you have magic?” Loki whispered into her ear, causing a jolt to trace down her spine as his breath ghosted across her skin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Loki hummed. “But the Grandmaster said you did—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s delusional.” Hermione bit back, keeping her voice low so Topaz wouldn’t hear them. “He enslaves people and forces them to fight for fun. I wouldn’t trust anything that man said if my life depended on it—which it does.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before Loki could say anything else, Topaz stopped in front of two doors. “Rooms.” Then she left, glaring at Hermione as she passed her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione stepped up to the right door, and it opened in a rush of air. It was certainly larger than her last one, and a quick inspection found the bed a bit softer and her water able to run hot. Even the view was undoubtedly better, looking out over the city and arena instead of rubbish. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She turned to find Loki leaning against the door frame, arms crossed as he watched her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Be ready tomorrow,” she said, walking up to him. “You cost me a lot of time.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Loki smirked and stepped back from the doorway. “I’ll be waiting, Three-nine-four.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hermione. My name is Hermione.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hermione.” Loki tested her name on his tongue, and the sound of it sent an involuntary shiver through her body. No, this man was a monster, a trickster and evil. She wasn’t supposed to enjoy the way his mouth said her name. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a quick push of the button, her door slid shut in his face. The bed squeaked beneath her as she sat atop it, falling over with a huff. Having Loki here could only spell trouble, how had he managed to even end up on Sakaar in the first place? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A growl from her stomach reminded her the only thing she had to eat today was a power bar, and with a sigh, she sat up. Exiting her room, Hermione thanked Merlin Loki’s door was shut, and she quickly headed in the direction of the Meal Hall. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was mostly empty, the hour later than dinner, but Hermione managed to grab some food leftover and retreated hastily back to her room. Being so alone made her skin crawl—like at any moment, something would pop out and try to attack her. If only she had her wand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Loki’s door was still shut as she returned, and her breath finally let loose once her door closed behind her. She would eat, shower, and promptly pass out; her body was always at the edge of extreme fatigue since arriving on Sakaar. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione only hoped Loki wouldn’t make it any worse for her. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Her day was already starting out shit. Loki wasn’t awake when she was supposed to be leaving, causing Hermione to be ten minutes later to the Meal Hall than she should be. Then, when they grabbed food, Loki made it a point to loudly insult the quality. The cooks, with their large tusked mouths and pig-like snouts, had tossed them both out with no food. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And of course, the guards in the Underground gave her nothing but hardship. “Three bags today,” spike-face told her. “One to make up for yesterday and another because you’re late.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They had glared at Loki like he was a pebble in their shoe, but the apparent lack of an Obedience Disk, and the fact he had never been assigned as a weapons finder, kept their jeers silent. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to come out here with me,” Hermione stated as she walked through the doors. “You can go do whatever the high-class does during the day. I’m sure there’s a more acceptable Meal Hall somewhere with food that would meet your standards.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Loki dusted off his leather sleeves. “I find your company much more enjoyable. Plus, I have some questions.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione rolled her eyes as they entered the landfill. She began to rummage through the metal scraps while Loki conjured pipes and metal sheets into a chaise lounge, looking every bit relaxed as if he were at a spa retreat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The force in which she shoved a sharp steel rod tore her bag. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, for Merlin’s saggy bollocks,” she mumbled angrily. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A laugh left Loki’s lips, and she glared daggers at his serene face. His stupidly perfect lips curled upward, dark eyelashes fluttered against his cheekbones from where they were closed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you plan to help me?” Hermione growled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Loki arched a brow and laced his fingers together, placing them on his chest. “No, I don’t do hard labour.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not even with your magic?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Loki slid open an eye to glance at her, “Especially not with my </span>
  <em>
    <span>powers</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione huffed, “Why are you even here? How the hell did you end up on Sakaar?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I could ask you the same thing, Earthling.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione bristled, “You know I’m from Earth?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s about as obvious as your hatred for Topaz.” Loki chuckled and adjusted on the chaise. “Let’s play a game; I ask a question, and you answer truthfully, and I </span>
  <em>
    <span>suppose </span>
  </em>
  <span>I can use my powers to help you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione huffed in annoyance but agreed, sitting down on a muffler next to Loki. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is it true you have magic?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rolling her eyes, Hermione sent a few blue sparks from the tips of her fingertips to zap him pointedly on the arse. Loki jolted from the chaise and stared at her with shock. “So you </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>have magic! You’re a witch, then?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione nodded her head, and Loki continued to stare at her with an odd look of amazement. He settled back onto the chaise and asked his next question.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How do I get off Sakaar?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione repeated the same thing Val told her. “It’s impossible unless you get an official pass from the Grandmaster, or can fly through the Devil’s Anus.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry—the what?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The Devil’s Anus, yes I know, it’s a silly name. It’s a wormhole at the edge of the landfill over the water. I’ve been told you would need a strong ship and an ace pilot.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Loki seemed to muse on her answer as he reclined further, tucking an arm behind his head. A minute passed and frustration coursed through Hermione. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well? I’ve answered three questions now. It’s your turn.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Loki glanced to her, his eyes twinkling with something she recognised as amusement. “Do you always say everything with such passion? It must be exhausting.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione pursed her lips and glared down her nose at him. After a moment, he sighed and waved his hand, a green glow covering the mounds of rubbish around them. Multiple items were pulled from the piles, filling all three of her bags instantly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Satisfied?” Loki asked, glancing down at his nails and picking invisible dirt from them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Immensely, thank you,” Hermione said. She stood and gathered the bags, heading back in the direction of the Underground. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Leaving so soon?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The less time I have to be out here, the better.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione stalked to the door, a self-satisfied smirk curling her lips at the surprised face of Spike-face. The clanging sound of metal filled her ears as she tossed the bags to the ground, turning to find Loki standing nearby. He cocked an eyebrow as she frowned at him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Three-nine-four,” a blue reptilian-like guard called out. “Up to the throne room, Grandmaster wants to see you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Apprehension filled her stomach as Loki’s arched brows furrowed. What had happened in the span of a day to warrant another meeting with the Grandmaster? Swallowing thickly, she followed after the reptilian guard, leaving Loki in the Underground. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They stepped into the ramshackle elevator—the same one that had brought her here all those weeks ago. It was a short distance to the throne room from the lift, and her heart rate quickened as their steps brought them nearer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Grandmaster lounged on his chair, female attendants giggling from where they sat at his feet. Topaz stood behind him, rolling her eyes. He glanced at Hermione with a large smile as she approached, and he stood from the chair and stretched out his back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Three-nine-four! Listen, so I had a thought.” Techno music began to play in the next room over, and the melodic beats carried gently through the air. The Grandmaster swung his hips a little in time with the music. “You did so well yesterday bringing me that Loogi guy. You know, he came to last night's party and just seemed to fit right in.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That explained why he hadn’t tried to talk to Hermione again. And why he woke up late.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Grandmaster closed his eyes for a minute and danced a bit more as the tempo of the music picked up. “Anyways, I’ve heard through the grapevine that you do so well as a weapons finder, and I’m curious if you’d feel up for a promotion.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A promotion?” Hermione asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So here’s what I’m thinking,” The Grandmaster stopped dancing and snapped at the female attendants. Hermione knew they're just as much a slave as she is, but she couldn’t help the crinkle of her nose at the obscene scraps of fabric they called dresses. They came on either side of him, wrapping their hands around his arms. Hermione could see the way the blonde on the right forced her smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“These are my personal attendants, and while I enjoy their company dearly, I find myself missing someone a bit more... </span>
  <em>
    <span>interesting </span>
  </em>
  <span>at the parties—sorry girls.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They both forcibly giggled, but Hermione’s blood ran cold. She wouldn’t have to do the same things these girls did, would she?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So,” The Grandmaster continued. “You’ll do your weapons finder duties during the day, and at night you’ll be my personal attendant at the parties. Fetching drinks, entertaining my companions, that sort of thing.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stared at Hermione expectantly, and her jaw clamped tightly—she knew there was no denying the Grandmaster. But her heart rate equalled out with the realisation she would basically just be a glorified waitress and not his bedroom companion.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An idea formed to make this work more in her favour. “Fine. But I want a flashier title.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Grandmaster tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Okay, what’ve you got?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Manager of food provisions.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a grin, The Grandmaster snaps his fingers. “Done. See? I knew I always liked this girl. Finally, someone understands my love for showmanship. Three-Four-Nine: Manager of Food Provisions, perfect. Topaz, make a note.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione gave Topaz a smug grin over the Grandmaster’s shoulder, and Topaz grunted, aiming a glare in her direction. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Grandmaster turned back to his chair, attendants following close behind. As he returned to his seat, he shot Hermione an expectant look. “I’ll see you tonight then.” </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope you've enjoyed this taste of what's to come! I'm very excited for this story. Let me know what you thought!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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